Lettuce is for the weak.
Let us forge the week.
Does not believing in anything mean you believe in everything?
I would pay good money to make sure that my fingernails could no longer grow (unless damaged.) Same with my hair.
I just can’t get over how weird shaving is. You rub sharpened metal as close to your face as possible.
How long before we replace velcro with magnets?
I can’t remember if this is true or not, but I believe I fell asleep almost immediately after starting Yes Man.
I fell asleep into Yes Man.
Giving you the smile you always wanted, in the house you’ve always dreamed of, that you can drive to in your award winning 5 star safety rated automobile, while you feel the wind in the head of hair you deserve.
What is the deal?
I can’t remember everything.
I have not dreamed until recently.
I am driving a motorcycle and park it in a driveway in Ohio (I do not live in Ohio.) My grandfather (who is dead and also doesn’t live in Ohio) runs down the street and skids to a stop and falls down. A guy I don’t know runs past him and asks if I’m ok but ignores my grandfather and doesn’t help him up. I am angry with this guy and try to yell at him to help up my grandfather but I can’t think of the words to say and I’m really fucking angry. I go to help him up and he is acting very strange. Normally he was a reserved man but when I talk to him now he is outgoing and strange. When I think about it later he acts how my grandmother would describe him the day he died after he had a stroke. My grandmother appears and tells me that her neighbor (Mrs. Bob Snyder or whatever, that’s always how she would talk about female friends, they were Mrs. [insert husband’s name here], feminists would hate her) accidently hit my grandfather in the head and he’s been acting weird ever since. I am infuriated by this and my grandmother is taken aback by my anger. We walk into some really crappy house. It looks like it’s made of plywood. It turns out to be the house of someone from work who I have a crush on and a lot of other people from work are here as well, most of whom I do not like. They all act like they’ve been to this house a million times before and I have never been there so I yet again get really pissed off because, seriously, what the fuck? Also, none of these fuckers live in Ohio.
This is a recurring dream I had as a child
I am speed skating (my favorite olympic sport) around a rink and there are lots of people on the course. We are all moving at normal speed but are body movement is very slow. It replicates a feeling I sometimes get when I’m awake where I kind of see the world through a dutch angle and I feel sluggish, usually while sitting down. It is very hard to not freak out when this happens, especially when other people are around. Anyway, we are all speed skating and in the center of the ice is a huge tentacled monster that occasionally grabs people with it’s tentacles and feeds on them, but doesn’t consume their physical form, kind of sucks their soul out. It seems like we are skating at the behest of this monster, for it’s entertainment and nourishment. This goes on for hours. I feel like the dream is in real time, and the total amount of time I spend sleeping is exactly how much time I skate for the monster. Also, when I wake up the dutch angle feeling (DAF) stays with me, so that adds a realistic quality to the dream as well.
I don’t like dreams that carry over into real life, like when you cry in a dream and you wake up and your eyes are wet, or when you are falling off a building and you wake up when you would’ve hit the ground, but your body reacts anyway and you brace yourself like you’re falling as you wake up, or anthing where the alarm clock makes a cameo appearance.
I can’t think of a good dream I’ve had, ever.
I used to do things that I don’t do now and I do things now that I didn’t used to do then.
I have the kind of hat that you can’t put in the microwave.
I’m running for president on a pro-masturbation platform.
The longer you take to pretend to answer a simple question the more qualified you are to be president.
Peanut butter is the snack of the future. My future, to be exact.
What is better?
What is best?
The best thing about life is that you don’t need reasons.
Like a turd… on a pyre.
Like a skunk in a used up tire.
In 60 years what will your internet corpse look like?
The phrase has been underlined and an exclamation point has been put on the end of it and I can’t make it disappear.
If my dick was made of graphite I would call it a penisil.
The Fart Connection
I don’t feel like I have any ownership over my life. It is not “my life,” just “life,” and we are all experiencing it at once.